


Spring

by warsfeil



Category: 07-Ghost
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's spring, and Konatsu is having a hard time ignoring Hyuuga. Loosely based on the alpha/beta/omega dynamic except not really. Warsfeil pon farr?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring

Spring arrived at the office of the Black Hawks with a whisper, compared to the furor the rest of the military had. None of the Black Hawks needed any time off to deal with the seasonal changes. The only differences in the office were minute changes, only there to the well-trained eye. Kuroyuri slept a little more than usual, her age dedicating all her energy towards growing and not bothering with any of the things that would happen after she hit puberty. Haruse covered for her admirably, picking up all the slack on paperwork. If his attention drifted a little more than usual, no one mentioned it. Katsuragi read his magazines and his books and kept to himself more than usual.

Ayanami stayed within his own office, visible through the clear glass divider. He kept his head down and his pen moving, the only change visible in him the fact that he had very few meetings and even less visitors. No messengers were allowed into his office— they went through Haruse or Konatsu or Katsuragi first, staying well away from Hyuuga. 

For Konatsu's part of his first spring in the office, he did his paperwork, as well as all of Hyuuga's— who seemed to be even more lazy for the season. He was currently spread across his desk, trying to follow the rays of sun from the window, but the sun was passing and shining on the floor, and Hyuuga didn't seem to feel like stooping to that level today. 

Hyuuga gave a long, sulking look at the sun on the floor before slipping over to Konatsu, as quiet as a cat. He might have managed to sneak up on him, if Konatsu wasn't so stubbornly attuned to Hyuuga's movement. And if it wasn't spring. Hyuuga draped down onto Konatsu, dropping his arms onto Konatsu's shoulders and looking down at the supply listing for Hyuuga's last mission. Konatsu's knuckles went white on his pen, and everyone else ignored that, too, the same way they were ignoring Hyuuga. Haruse gave Konatsu a brief look of understanding before looking down at Kuroyuri and then back down to his own paperwork. Kuroyuri slept on, and Katsuragi — Katsuragi might as well have been asleep, hidden behind some magazine.

"Sir," Konatsu said, trying his best to make his voice come out as calm as possible. If it shook, that was a dead giveaway, and the last thing he wanted to do was encourage Hyuuga. Ignoring him was generally the best option, but right now, when Konatsu's skin was on fire and his heart pounded out a rhythm so loud he was certain Hyuuga could hear it, Konatsu needed to be a little more proactive. "Please sit down and do your paperwork."

Hyuuga let out a slow noise of consideration from the perch his chin had atop Konatsu's head. He made no movement to change the position of his arms where they dangled across Konatsu's shoulders and down his chest. Konatsu was sure that if he didn't think of a way to get Hyuuga to leave soon, Hyuuga was going to _feel_ his heart beating, even if his fingers were still a few inches away from Konatsu's skin.

" _Sir_ ," Konatsu repeated, this time through gritted teeth. It was anger — irritation. It wasn't unusual for Konatsu to become exasperated with Hyuuga. He just needed to keep believing that was all it was. Normal irritation. 

"Hmm," Hyuuga responded, and moved his head. With his chin on Konatsu's shoulder, every breath Hyuuga took and let out again brushed Konatsu's ear, and he clenched his pen so hard he felt it crack in his hand as he tried not to shiver. Hyuuga smiled and Konatsu could feel it, could feel as the loose, lazy grip Hyuuga had on Konatsu turned into something more deliberate. 

Konatsu snapped, reaching up and grabbing Hyuuga's wrists and depositing them safely away from his body, giving his shoulders a shake to remove Hyuuga's head. He left a smear of ink on Hyuuga's skin, and quickly dropped the pen into the trash, wiping his hand off with a tissue and grabbing a new pen. 

"Even if you aren't going to do your paperwork, I still have quite a bit to get done," Konatsu said, and with Hyuuga no longer touching him, Konatsu could keep his voice sounding almost entirely normal. His skin didn't cool down, but his heart rate was lowering just enough to give him some illusion of calm.

"Aa," Hyuuga replied, straightening up and stepping back over to his own desk and dropping down into his chair. "Kona-chan is so hardworking!" With that, a degree of normalcy returned to the office, if you ignored the way Ayanami was sequested in his office and the way Kuroyuri slept straight through lunch. Konatsu dutifully ignored all of it, including the fact that Hyuuga was resting his chin on his hand, looking across at Konatsu instead of doing his paperwork. That was a fight Konatsu had no intention of picking right now.

He did have an awful lot of paperwork to do.

-

When Konatsu finally placed the last piece of paperwork in Hyuuga's basket, each sheet completed save for the Major's signature, it was dark. The only light still on was the one on his desk. It was past ten, the office clock informed him, and Konatsu let out a sigh that he could feel in his bones. He had pulled nothing but late nights since becoming Hyuuga's begleiter, and he was certain it was a problem that would continue to be ongoing unless a miracle happened and Hyuuga's laziness was suddenly cured.

Haruse and Kuroyuri had left hours ago; Katsuragi not long after them. Hyuuga had wandered out at some point around seven, only to come back with food, but he took that directly to Ayanami's office, much to Konatsu's relief. Hyuuga apparently managed to persuade Ayanami to leave early, because Ayanami followed him out of the office around 9:30. It was a rare enough occurence, but not completely out of the ordinary during the spring. Konatsu had wondered what Ayanami did in the spring. Did he simply ignore every urge that he must have had, surpressing them like he seemed to do with all of his emotions? Konatsu knew that it was worse, for warsfeil, the impulses, and it doubled over exponentially the more powerful a warsfeil was. It must have been nearly unbearable for Ayanami, but he rarely showed any signs of tiring. 

Without meaning to, Konatsu's mind jumped to what _Hyuuga_ must do in spring. The idea of Ayanami finding someone was almost unthinkable; Konatsu couldn't imagine him taking someone to bed for the season. He couldn't imagine Ayanami without his hat or his uniform (or without a pen in his hand, in truth). Hyuuga, though, he could imagine almost too well. He'd seen Hyuuga change too often to have to spend effort imagining what the man looked like naked. Hyuuga was all lean muscle and tan skin, and it was too easy to picture him looming over someone else, holding onto their shoulders to keep them in place and exploring their skin with his mouth—

The door closed suddenly, and Konatsu jumped, mind tearing away from the thought. He could feel the flush on his cheeks, and tried to wipe it away (he thought of paperwork, of numbers and reports and how many pages Hyuuga needed to sign by morning), but it was Hyuuga that had walked in, and Konatsu's stomach dropped out.

"Sir—" he started, then broke off, his voice a tangled mess of embarrassment and too many other things Konatsu didn't want to think about. Hyuuga would know, Hyuuga _had_ to know, it wasn't the sort of thing that any warsfeil would overlook. Could overlook, unless they were as young as Kuroyuri. 

Hyuuga smiled again, the same lazy, predatory smile that he'd worn earlier in the day, and stepped towards Konatsu, who suddenly felt very small without the desk in front of him. He put a hand down on Hyuuga's desk and willed himself not to step back, but Hyuuga's presence was almost tangible, weighing down on him with a desperate urgency he had never felt so strongly before. 

"Major Hyuuga," Konatsu started again, his voice quieter than it ever was when he addressed Hyuuga. He could hear the tremble in it, hear every breath he took in and how it changed his voice, but he had to say something to stop Hyuuga's slow approach. "It's late—"

"You've stayed much later," Hyuuga responded, and Konatsu had to fight the urge to laugh hysterically at the fact that Hyuuga was _interrupting_ him, that they were even discussing how late Konatsu stayed to do Hyuuga's paperwork when Konatsu knew paperwork was the last thing on Hyuuga's mind, on _his own_ mind—

Then Hyuuga was right in front of him, and Konatsu swallowed. Hyuuga's smile widened, just a touch, and Konatsu had to stop himself from jumping when he saw Hyuuga's hand move. Hyuuga laughed a little, at that, the movement continuing up to slide his sunglasses off, drop them down onto the desk and turn his full gaze onto Konatsu.

It was then that Konatsu knew he'd lost. Not that there was ever a chance of him winning, of course — he wasn't anywhere near strong enough for that, wasn't anywhere near where he needed to be on the hierarchy. He was right in the middle, which was better than being at the _bottom_ , but Hyuuga was a rank of his own. Second only to Ayanami, Konatsu was sure, and with the weight of Hyuuga's gaze down on him, Konatsu had to remember to breathe.

He took in a stuttering breath, too aware of too many things all at once to focus on any of them. He could feel his heart pounding again, his uniform too heavy on his overheated skin, the red blush across his cheeks and the way his lungs felt like they were starving for air with the way Hyuuga was blocking it all out. He could also feel Hyuuga, _feel_ him even though they weren't touching, the warsfeil's presence stifling and thick around Konatsu. Hyuuga's pupils were little more than thin slits, the red as dangerous as anything else. 

When Hyuuga reached out this time, Konatsu stayed as still as a statue, and Hyuuga touched him. It was a small touch: Hyuuga merely reached out and tilted Konatsu's chin up further, a needless gesture, with the way Konatsu was already looking so far up. Konatsu realized the relevancy when Hyuuga dropped his gaze from Konatsu's face to his neck, and Konatsu automatically reached up to clutch at Hyuuga's hand. He didn't try to move it; he wasn't stupid enough to try and get away from this, to make that grip tighten, but he felt that he had to do _something—_

"You were raised around warsfeil," Hyuuga said, and his tone was as casual as though he was discussing the weather, if you ignored the undercurrents Konatsu could pick up on. "So no one else ever went near you, did they?"

It took Konatsu a moment to find his voice. He almost shook his head, but Hyuuga's hand was still there, fingers lightly poised underneath Konatsu's chin, and so instead he spoke.

"No," Konatsu said. "Everyone was too afraid." Those who weren't warsfeil were afraid of the Warrens, and those who were warsfeil were afraid to touch Konatsu, afraid that the curse that had rendered him normal and powerless would infect them and their children. 

"Are you?" 

It took Konatsu a moment to understand the question, as simple as it was. Was he afraid? He should have been. Might have been, if he hadn't been raised by warsfeil, if he hadn't understood what spring had meant from a young age, if he hadn't watched the changes it brought to the people around him. He was nervous, but he trusted Hyuuga. It was likely a silly thing to do, given that the man had cheerfully broken his arm and a few of his ribs before bestowing the title of begleiter on him, but he didn't think it was misplaced trust. Others would have, but others wouldn't have been in the Black Hawks to begin with.

"No," Konatsu said, the word carrying with it an air of finality that he hadn't expected. He knew what he was agreeing to, with that. With someone like Hyuuga, there wouldn't be any going back. Once things had started... but they'd already started, hadn't they? They'd started months ago, when Konatsu had first become his begleiter. It wasn't an uncommon arrangement, and just because Hyuuga hadn't made any movements before didn't mean it was fully unanticipated. He'd agreed to be in the Black Hawks and serve under Hyuuga knowing full well that Hyuuga was a warsfeil, and knowing exactly what that could mean. 

"Good," Hyuuga said, and that word meant more than anything else could have. He didn't want Konatsu to be afraid. He wasn't like some of the other warsfeil; he wasn't like the ones that had made their reputation on fear and terror. Hyuuga might use the warsfeil reputation to his advantage, but like this, _in_ this, he was careful, and because of that, Konatsu was lost. He leaned forward into Hyuuga's touch, just enough that it was a careful encouragement. If he was going to belong to someone, however permanent or temporary, he'd be glad for it to be Hyuuga. 

Hyuuga let his fingers brush across Konatsu's chin for a second more, and then Hyuuga was every bit the hurricane Konatsu knew he could be. His hands slipped down to Konatsu's shoulders, pulled him closer with a jerk and pressed their lips together in a kiss that didn't wait for Konatsu to respond at all. It was for the best, really, because Konatsu didn't know if he could respond, didn't know if he could do anything but raise his hands and hold onto Hyuuga like he'd drown if he let go. It felt like he was drowning, and he realized with a start that he needed to breath, and he took an awkward gasp of air in as Hyuuga moved to bite one of his lips. 

Konatsu knew that it was always like this — if you were like him, somewhere in the middle of everything, it was like being swept up and away when you were with someone like Hyuuga, whose power matched his will. Hyuuga could have anyone he chose, even another warsfeil, and Konatsu wouldn't have been capable of resisting even if Hyuuga _hadn't_ asked. But Hyuuga had, and Konatsu was fairly certain that made it better — easier to get swept away in the sensation, to let the signals his body had been sending all day (all _week_ ) flow through him and control his reactions. He gasped as Hyuuga bit his neck hard enough to bruise; moaned low when Hyuuga lapped at it afterwards, a careful, soothing pressure. 

He heard a clatter, and dimly registered that Hyuuga was probably shoving things off of the desk. On a normal day, Konatsu might have cared, but on a normal day Hyuuga wouldn't have a hand deftly undoing Konatsu's uniform until he could push it off. On a normal day, Konatsu wouldn't have let him. 

Hyuuga was more preoccupied with Konatsu's clothing than with his own, it seemed, because as soon as the outer layer of the uniform was off, he started in on the shirt. It only took a few seconds for him to get it unbuttoned, and he leaned down to nip at Konatsu's collarbones before wrapping his arms around him. Konatsu automatically held on, and Hyuuga lifted him, setting him on the desk and taking advantage of the position to kiss him again. Konatsu faltered for a second before deciding that if Hyuuga wasn't going to worry about himself, then Konatsu would. It was a struggle to keep his head; to keep from letting go entirely, but he was aware enough to want to see Hyuuga without his uniform. 

He wasn't so far gone that the idea of it didn't make him flush scarlet, but it was just added onto the haze already across his cheeks. Honestly, half naked, sitting on top of Hyuuga's desk and making out with the Major — there wasn't much more he could do that was embarrassing. He'd get over it. 

He thought so, anyway, but Konatsu quickly realized there was more he could do to embarrass himself when Hyuuga's hand brushed the tent in Konatsu's pants, and Konatsu let out a moan that was surprisingly loud in his own ears. He'd barely noticed — barely had _time_ to notice, with the way Hyuuga was touching him all over, but now that his attention had been drawn to it, Konatsu wanted more. Rather urgently.

"Major," he said, and there was just an edge of Konatsu's usual voice there, just a hint of his stubbornness, and he reached down to let his own hand venture down across the matching tent in Hyuuga's pants. Hyuuga let out a quiet laugh against Konatsu's shoulder that was gratifyingly breathy, hips jerking towards Konatsu's hand, and Konatsu found it unbearably endearing that Hyuuga would let Konatsu help. So many warsfeil just took what and who they wanted, but Hyuuga had always been a little more than that. As strong as he was, he was still careful, and Konatsu couldn't help but adore him for it. There was a reason that Konatsu would do all Hyuuga's paperwork; that Konatsu would willingly die, if it helped Hyuuga survive. Multiple reasons, really, including the way Hyuuga could use his tongue when he kissed like that. 

Hyuuga leaned Konatsu onto the desk, and as uncomfortable as the wood was against Konatsu's back, Konatsu didn't care, not if it meant Hyuuga would keep pressing up against him like that. And Hyuuga _did_ , letting his lips trail red marks down Konatsu's throat and chest. Hyuuga let his teeth close around one nipple, and Konatsu let out a gasp, hands fumbling against nothing before he found a handhold in the silky strands of Hyuuga's hair. Hyuuga seemed to like it, and Konatsu filed it away for future reference (for the next time, if there was one — he hoped there would be one —) that Hyuuga liked it a little rough. Konatsu was discovering that he had preferences that lined up very nicely with Hyuuga's, and when Hyuuga let his fingers glide over to give a pinch to Konatsu's other nipple, Konatsu raised up off the desk with a noise halfway between a gasp and a moan.

" _Major_ ," Konatsu repeated, and this time it was desperate, and he wasn't even quite sure what for. For more contact; for more _everything_ , for everything he could get and then some. He raised up against Hyuuga, the remnants of shame falling away as pressed against him with a quiet keening noise.

The noise worked— or maybe it was the contact? Either way, Hyuuga let out something that was almost a growl, and he reached down to put a hand on Konatsu's hip and jerk them up. It was exactly what Konatsu wanted, contact and pressure and _everything_. He moved against Hyuuga, and it took a few thrusts before Hyuuga finally reached down to undo Konatsu's pants, the few seconds that they wasted dragging on for an eternity. It must have seemed just as long to Hyuuga, because once the belt was undone Konatsu felt the tell-tale prickle of zaiphon on his skin, hot and electric, and heard the sound of fabric ripping. He didn't care, though, because then Hyuuga's hand was wrapping around Konatsu's cock and Konatsu buried his face in Hyuuga's shoulder and moaned, jerking up with the pleasure. He raised his own hands to claw at Hyuuga's pants, nowhere near deft enough to undo the belt and the fastenings without being able to properly see them, especially not with his mind preoccupied with every stroke Hyuuga gave to his cock. 

"Major, I can't—" _remove your pants_ , but that was too absurd to say outloud. Konatsu settled instead for tugging on Hyuuga's belt futilely, and Hyuuga let out another growl, this one a little more animalistic than anything else, the irritation clearly conveyed. Konatsu let his hands drop, feeling chastised, and Hyuuga undid his own pants, freed his cock, and Konatsu had a brief moment to look at it before Hyuuga was pressing back against him, gripping both their cocks and shifting to jerk their hips together.

It was like electricity. Konatsu's arms went back around Hyuuga and he wrapped a leg around him for good measure, moving up to thrust into Hyuuga's hand, to thrust against Hyuuga. Every movement Hyuuga made, Konatsu obediently mirrored, desperate and wanton. He could feel pleasure building, so hot and hard that he could barely breathe for the fear of losing it. Every breath that he took and released was held as long as possible before being let out as an explosive exhalation, the air filling his lungs in great gasps. Konatsu was vaguely aware that he was making noise, rhythmic little noises in time with every jerk of Hyuuga's hips. He was more aware of the noises Hyuuga was making in return, deep gasps and little noises that weren't quite moans, weren't quite anything but absolutely maddening and deeply satisfying. 

When Konatsu came, he was fairly certain he screamed. It wasn't Hyuuga's name, or his rank, or anything that might have resembled a word, but it was loud and echoed in his ears even as he tensed and jerked up and clung to Hyuuga hard enough that crescents of blood welled up where his nails had been. Hyuuga wasn't much longer, and Konatsu felt it as he shuddered and went shock still for a second, a quiet whisper of something that Konatsu thought might have been his name. The thought added to the warmth that Konatsu could feel spreading through his body, and he laid there for a long moment, contented underneath Hyuuga. Hyuuga let himself carefully down, lying on his side and wrapping an arm possessively around Konatsu and nuzzling into his hair. 

It was a long time before either of them spoke. Konatsu waited until his own senses returned, until he swam to something resembling a normal state. In some ways, it was better now that he'd had sex with Hyuuga; it left a certain clarity to his mind that he wouldn't have had otherwise. On the other hand, he knew that it would be even worse tomorrow. It would need to be a habit, then, and Konatsu started to work out the optimal schedule in his head for keeping as much clarity as he could about himself while also spending as much time in the office (doing _paperwork_ , not spread out on Hyuuga's desk) as was possible.

"You're thinking too much," Hyuuga murmured, tone thick with the contented sleepiness that comes after orgasm. He raised a hand— his clean one, thankfully— and let it drop over Konatsu's eyes, blocking out the small light from Konatsu's desk. Blocking it out more than it should have, Konatsu realized slowly, and he reached up to touch Hyuuga's hand and felt the cold wars there, creeping across Hyuuga's skin. Hyuuga kept it from touching Konatsu, deliberate and carefully controlled, and Konatsu appreciated it as much as he admired the amount of control Hyuuga had. Well. The amount of control that Hyuuga had _sometimes_ , anyway.

"There's quite a lot of paperwork I have to do, sir," Konatsu replied, letting his hands rest on top of Hyuuga's, the wars wrapping around his fingertips. Being wrapped almost entirely around Konatsu apparently wasn't quite enough — Hyuuga needed to wrap even further around him. It wasn't as if Konatsu was going anywhere.

"It can wait a few hours," Hyuuga said, burrowing his face insistently into Konatsu's hair. 

Konatsu sighed, and as exasperated as the sound was, he knew it wouldn't convince Hyuuga. Not when Konatsu wasn't making any real movement to throw him off. Konatsu paused for a moment, considering the best plan for attack and knowing it was futile. He couldn't convince Hyuuga to do anything he didn't want to on the best of days, least of all when Hyuuga was contented and comfortable. How, on a wooden desk, with his uniform half off, Konatsu couldn't fathom, but he couldn't deny that the heat from Hyuuga's body wasn't making him a little sleepy, too.

"In a few hours, Lord Ayanami will be back, and—" Konatsu paused, realizing that he'd waited too long. Hyuuga had already drifted off, chest moving against Konatsu with every slow breath. Konatsu sighed. Well, they had a few hours before dawn. He rolled slightly to duck his head under Hyuuga's chin and spread Hyuuga's uniform jacket over the both of them. It was still chilly enough to catch a cold.

It was spring, after all.


End file.
